


Steal Me Away

by miyaji_08



Category: The Maze Runner (2014), The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: M/M, pickpocket!au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-14
Updated: 2014-10-14
Packaged: 2018-02-21 03:05:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2452436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miyaji_08/pseuds/miyaji_08
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Minho and Thomas turn to pickpocketing when they need to come up with money for rent and unlucky for them, they end up falling for one of their targets: a hot blonde law student named Newt. They don't know it, but he fell for them too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Steal Me Away

**Author's Note:**

> Hey!! this is my first fic so please tell me if you liked it! :) Thominewt is my absolute favorite thing ever so if you guys have any prompts for them comment and I'll probably end up using them in the distant future.

They didn’t want to do it, honestly, but they had to pay for rent somehow. Living in the city was expensive, and while Thomas’ internship was going great and Minho was on the road to the Olympics (it’s a long road, okay?) that didn’t add up to the cost of living.  
Thomas started it even though Minho was the first one to put it to action. They were both attractive, but where Thomas was lean and fit Minho was muscular and full-bodied, so as Minho conversed with strangers on the train Thomas would slip behind the target and steal their wallet.  
Which is how they got into a certain situation.  
“Hey, you dropped this,” Minho said, holding out his fist, and when the pretty blonde boy opened his hand to accept whatever it was he thought he’d lost Minho entwined their fingers and squeezed a little for emphasis. The boy flushed a pretty pink color and stared down at their hands, which—no, that wouldn’t do.  
“Aw, don’t be shy,” Minho drew out the sweetheart act, pulling the boy’s hand closer and kissing it. The blonde’s head snapped up as he studied Minho, who took the chance to peck his cheek, but shockingly enough the shy-kid act had faded into a tired what-the-hell-do-you-want and oh shit.  
See, he had to be careful about his targets, especially when he was going after a student. Students were complete and loveable romantics and would fall for pretty much anything unless it was finals week. Something about getting an hour of sleep and running on coffee and stress put them in an extremely bad mood. Minho did an once-over of the guy: (adorably) ruffled hair, slight bags under haunted and bleary eyes. His white button-down shirt and navy tie was hidden under a knit burgundy sweater, and his jeans were skinny but not tight, a pleasant light brown color.  
He was definitely a student, and definitely sleep-deprived. “Sorry,” Minho said, letting go with calm eyes, “sorry, sorry, I didn’t realize you were a student. You’re under a lot of stress right now; I’ll leave you alone.”  
The boy blinked, surprised at the hasty retreat, and nodded gratefully before pulling out a pocketbook on law. Ouch. Deciding he made the right call to back out, Minho stepped past him until he reached the back of the train.  
“You get it?” He asked, and Thomas nodded. A worn leather wallet passed between them. Guilt gnawed at both of their stomachs, but they felt their backs press against the wall of stress and bills. “Awesome. My shift starts in an hour, I probably won’t be home until eight or nine.”  
“That’s fine,” Thomas shrugged, “today’s my only day off so I’m just going to be sleeping all day anyway.” Minho tugged him forward by the waistband of his pants and kissed him, lips turning into a smile. They broke apart when the train stopped, and Thomas retreated to the doors. “See you when you get home,” he said, tossing his bag over one shoulder and hopping out.  
Minho grinned and was about to check his phone when he got that back-of-the-neck feeling that someone was staring at him. Looking up, he saw the blonde student from before, the book still open and held with one hand, studying him with a look of interest.

 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 

Their relationship was at a standstill. Don’t get them wrong—they’d never been happier. Minho was running faster than ever and was actually getting paid to do it now. Thomas finally wrangled his way from being an intern to a full-fledged employee and together they made enough to sell their cheap (and, to be honest, unsafe) apartment and get a condo with all-new furniture and even a television. It had been two months since either of them had stolen a dollar and they were proud of it.  
Currently they both sat in a local coffee shop. Minho had settled by the fire staring into space and Thomas was curled up in a nearby loveseat reading. Both of them knew what was eating up the comfort between them but neither wanted to broach the subject. After all, they were still getting into the more domestic rhythm of their relationship—something neither of them were very good at seeing as they were both pretty independent and failed at grounding each other.  
It was the blonde boy. He wasn’t anything special, and it wasn’t like love at first sight, but they couldn’t get him out of their heads. Minho constantly thought about how ungodly attractive he was, with his porcelain skin and big hazel eyes, and Thomas couldn’t help but remember what it felt like to press slyly against the student’s back and slide a hand into his front pocket to get the wallet.  
“We have to talk about this sometime,” Thomas reminded him quietly, when they and the workers were the only ones left in the shop.  
“I vote later.” Minho said. Tapping his foot against the cushions Thomas groaned.  
“But if we don’t talk about it then how can we ever find h—oh my god.” He stopped and stared, cuing his boyfriend to do the same. Minho’s mouth dropped open.  
They stared as the blonde caught sight of them, wearing nearly the same outfit as before and wrapped up in a brown peacoat. He was waiting at the other end of the shop for his drink to be set out and had a leather messenger bag on one shoulder. When he noticed the way they were staring at him his lips quirked into a smile-smirk. He began to walk their way and Minho stiffened.  
“Oh shit,” he whispered, glancing around. No one else had entered the shop.  
Thomas pressed back into the loveseat when the boy approached him and tugged him to his feet, and then he squeezed his eyes shut. Despite having expected one, no blows came.  
“Look, man, if it’s money you want—mmph!” Thomas’ eyes snapped open when the boy pushed their mouths together. They were just the right height for each other, Thomas being only slightly taller, and it felt so perfect. Thomas groaned a little and let his hands settle under the student’s tweed coat at the small of his back to pull their bodies flush together, and he felt the boy nip the bottom of his lip as hands traced their way down Thomas’ back, stopping dangerously close to his ass.  
Suddenly the boy was gone, having to push Thomas’ chest slightly to get him to let go. One glance at Minho, who was gaping and had one leg crossed over the other, before the blonde finally seemed to register what he’d done. A pretty pink color flushed his cheeks and he glanced between them once nervously before speed walking back to the drink table and picking up his to-go cup. He turned and glanced at them once more before darting out.  
Minho and Thomas shared a look.  
“I’m not complaining,” Minho finally said. Thomas was still panting, a little out of breath.  
“Me neither, but why did he…oh. Oh, shit!” His hands flew to his back pockets and he came up empty.  
“What?”  
“My wallet! Shit! That—shit, that had my paycheck in it!” Thomas paled and looked up at Minho miserably.  
“Tom, you realize he can’t actually cash it right?”  
“No, but he doesn’t have to,” Thomas groaned. “I cashed it this morning, I was going to have us put it in your account!”  
They stared at each other for another few minutes while Minho processed what was being said. Then he jumped to his feet.  
“Oh, hell no.” He growled before running out of the shop. Thomas stepped up to the counter.  
“Um, hi—“ he glanced at the barista’s nametag, “—Alby. Do you know who just came in here? Like, his name?”  
“You mean the blonde kid?” Alby asked, one eyebrow raised. “That’s Newt, he’s a regular here. Why—“ he was interrupted when Thomas shouted out a quick ‘thanks!’ and ran out the door after his boyfriend.  
He caught up to Minho after only a minute, because the Asian boy had no idea which way to go. They began to scan the semi-full streets for a mop of sandy hair.  
“There!” Thomas said when he saw Newt, and Minho nodded before pulling into a sprint. Thomas tried to keep up but they were running against the crowd, and he watched helplessly as Minho darted into the bike lane to avoid the throng of people.  
By the time he caught up to them, Minho had managed to grab Newt’s wrist and start talking to him. Newt looked less than pleased.  
“No way,” he was saying, “sorry, mate, but you two stole my wallet. Now we’re square.”  
Minho wasn’t giving up, even though he couldn’t see the telltale bulge of Thomas’ thick foldover in any of the blonde’s pockets. “You don’t get it, that had our fuckin’ rent money! His entire month’s wage, we need that shit!”  
“What do you think my wallet had in it, movie tickets?” Newt snapped. Thomas felt a wave of guilt; they both knew that pickpocketing was wrong, but they’d never seen anything bad come out of it. Everyone they’d stolen from on the train had appeared wealthy and unaffected by the loss. Seeing someone distraught about it made him feel like shit. Which, well, he sort of was asking for, stealing things to get by.  
“C’mon, please, man!” Minho’s grip tightened enough that Newt winced. Thomas knew that there was going to be a bruise there later. “We’re not even doing that shit anymore—we didn’t want to in the first place! We’re good people!”  
“Character isn’t who you are when things are good,” Newt said through clenched teeth, “it’s who you are when things aren’t. Don’t expect me to believe you, since it’s probably another lie. Just so you know, that wallet had most of my months’ money in it, too.”  
“Oh boohoo,” Minho snarled, “you’re giving me that wallet.”  
“Yeah, over my dead body,” Newt didn’t stand down, and Thomas chose that moment to intervene. He stepped between them and forced Minho to let go of Newt’s arm.  
“Guys, calm down. Minho,” he bit his lip, “I’ll meet you back at the coffee shop.”  
“No way,” Minho crossed his arms. “I’m staying here. He could bolt.”  
“Fine,” Thomas rolled his eyes and turned to face Newt. “Look, Newt…we were in a really bad situation a couple of months ago and no, that doesn’t justify our actions. But regardless, we really do need that money back. We’re not lying. It really is our rent money.”  
Newt frowned, and Thomas could sense that the blonde was quite hurt about the whole situation. He tried to sense out what the student was actually upset about.  
“Besides, that’s not actually why I chased you down. Its—we thought it was one-sided, since y’know we barely know each other, but…judging from what just happened in the coffee shop it isn’t.”  
“What isn’t.” Newt asked flatly, and it wasn’t a question. Thomas didn’t care. He’d felt the emotions in that kiss and had no doubt in his mind.  
“Our feelings for you. We know you feel the same—“  
Newt’s fist connected with his cheek and he rocked back into Minho, who shouted a profanity and caught him, holding on tight to make sure they both wouldn’t fall.  
“Keep the damn wallet,” Newt said, and it really didn’t make sense that he was the one that sounded on the verge of tears and not Thomas. He threw down the wallet at their feet and stormed off.  
“Holy shit, Tom, let’s get you back to the condo.” Minho said, looking ready to take off after Newt and rip him a new one. It’s been a while since he’d appeared that pissed and Thomas didn’t want the situation to escalate, so he ignored the throbbing of his cheekbone in favor of grabbing his wallet off the ground and shoving it in his pocket. He and Minho swung their arms around each other’s shoulders for support (just in case) and ignored the weird looks they got from passersby.  
After all, it’s not like that is the first time one of them had gotten in a fight, and certainly not the first time they deserved it.

 

 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 

 

“I just…I don’t get it.” Thomas sighed. He was sprawled over their couch with his feet in Minho’s lap. The runner was flipping through channels with his legs propped up on the coffee table, his free hand gripping tight a mug of hot chocolate.  
“We’re not talking about this again,” Minho groaned and set down the mug. Thomas stole it and took a long swig. “You’ve been saying that for the past hour, you shuckface.” He paused his channel surfing when Game of Thrones came on. Joffrey was strutting around on screen again. “God, I hate that guy.”  
“Newt or Joffrey?”  
“Both.”  
Thomas rolled his eyes. “It’s just—he looked so hurt. I don’t think it’s the wallet he’s mad about.”  
“Why does it have to be more complicated than that? We took his wallet. Should he have taken yours? Obviously not, but I would’ve been mad too if I were him.”  
“Yeah, but you wouldn’t feel betrayed. He definitely looked betrayed. And sad.” Thomas frowned. “Especially when I told him we liked him.”  
“Not everyone goes for that,” Minho reminded him, though from his stiff jaw Thomas knew that he felt bad about it, too. It hurt to be rejected, and they were both wary of judgment after coming out to their close-minded high school classmates. Even if everyone in college and at work was nicer and accepting, it didn’t erase the mental scars.  
“Yeah, but he let you kiss him. And then he kissed me in front of you, so that’s obviously not the problem.”  
“Obviously,” Minho parroted in an obnoxious voice. Thomas rolled his eyes.  
“Go to sleep you asshole,” he said, poking his foot into Minho’s side. “You have running tomorrow.”  
“Fine,” Minho said as he got up and headed to the bedroom. “If you go out pick up some butter, I think we’re out.”  
“Will do.”  
With that, Thomas was alone.  
Thomas did not do ‘alone’ very well. Not well at all. So instead of moping about his swollen cheek and bone-tired boyfriend, he decided to be productive. It was only eleven, he could go out to get groceries. He wasn’t a girl, so it was probably still safe to be walking around at night. They lived in a semi-nice neighborhood, after all.  
The trip to the grocery store was uneventful, and the only things he ended up getting were butter, ginger snaps, and m&m’s. He decided to take a detour by the local bar on the way back at that, that’s where things got interesting.  
At first glance there were no familiar faces in the bar, and Thomas felt a little out of place wearing his hoodie, dark jeans, and sneakers. But then he noticed Newt half-laying on the wooden counter, his arms folded on top of it and his head close to resting on them. He’d pulled off his peacoat and let it hang on the back of his chair. A man had his hand planted inside Newt’s arms near one of his elbows, keeping him from resting his head down. The man leaned in close to Newt’s ear and the blonde muttered something back.  
Thomas didn’t like it. He scooched over to listen in.  
“C’mon, pretty boy, let me show you a good time,” the man was murmuring, his words blurring and showing that he was painfully drunk.  
“Just leave me alone,” Newt muttered, “I’ve had a shitty day and I’m not interested in making it longer.” He unfolded his arms and moved to get up but the man wrapped an arm around Newt’s waist and forced him to stumble onto the man’s lap. Newt made a distressed noise.  
Thomas took that as his cue but as he stepped closer to help, Newt reeled his elbow back and it smashed him right in his temple. He staggered back, noting that Newt punched the man before pushing off of the seat and turning to kneel at Thomas’ side.  
“Bloody hell, I’m so s—oh,” he said when he realized who it was, and immediately moved to get up.  
“Wait,” Thomas pleaded. He snatched up Newt’s wrist, the one that Minho hadn’t grabbed (he could see the bruises on that arm). In the background the bartender was manhandling the pervert out the door with a grimace. “I’m not here to ask for anything, I just wanted to apologize. And buy you a drink.”  
Newt gave him a very distrusting look but nodded solemnly, helping him up and sitting down next to him at the counter. He resumed his earlier position of his arms crossed, and rested his chin on them.  
“So, how did you know my name?” Newt asked as Thomas ordered them both a drink and set down his groceries. His voice was full of melancholy, and slightly hoarse.  
“The barista, Alby, gave it to me. I asked for it before tracking you down.” He waited until Newt had consumed half of his drink and asked a cautionary, “are you drunk?” When Newt admitted he’d been at the bar for hours and was far less than sober, Thomas decided to go for it. “What did we do to you that made you hate us?”  
“Excuse me?”  
“You heard me.”  
Newt laughed brokenly and turned his head so he could face Thomas, half of his face nestled into the crook of his arms. “Wow, isn’t this just a lucky night for me?”  
“Why?”  
“Oh, I don’t know!” Newt began to raise his voice and his words slurred more and more as he went on. “Maybe because when someone flirted with me on the bus and then actually had the bloody decency to back off, I thought I might actually like him! Maybe because I ended up lo—iking not one, no, but two people who obviously don’t give a damn about me! Or maybe, maybe it’s because I finally thought I was getting over you two and your, your bloody games made me feel like absolute shit for a second time!”  
“Oh. Oh. Oh, no,” Thomas finally realized why Newt was mad at them. It wasn’t that he didn’t like them, it was the opposite: he thought they didn’t like him. Which seems weird because Minho flirted with him and Thomas—  
Ohhhh. “Oh, god. No, this isn’t—we weren’t playing you.” He faltered at Newt’s pointed look. “Okay, well, the first time we were, but at that coffee shop I really did enjoy…that. And I wasn’t lying; we both really liked you. Like you. Infatuated, really, because we haven’t been able to get you out of our minds since we first, er, robbed you. Although this isn’t really the way we wanted our second meeting to go.”  
“The sad thing is, I want to believe you.” Newt said, still sounding heartbreakingly torn. “I really, really do.”  
Thomas didn’t say anything for a long time. He looked down at the clear contents of his drink and sighed, closing his eyes and taking a few deep breaths. When he opened them again and looked to his side, Newt was asleep. He looked adorable but worn, with bags under his eyes and his hair ruffled. He would definitely have a bad hangover in the morning.  
“Bar’s closing soon,” the bartender warned him. Thomas snorted.  
“What kind of bar closes at eleven thirty?” He asked.  
“The kind of bar that actually celebrates Veterans’ day.” The bartender said. Thomas heaved a sigh and shook Newt’s shoulder to wake him up.  
“No.” Newt whined quietly, voice muffled. It was endearing, but Thomas wanted him to get home before sleeping. Besides, he had a bed full of Minho back at his condo that he didn’t want to keep waiting.  
“C’mon, Newt. Get up.”  
The string of words Newt uttered seemed to be a mix between slurs and British slang because it was incomprehensible to Thomas. He glanced up at the bartender, who had his hands on his hips and was glaring at them.  
“Fine, fine! Guess I’ll have to take you home with me, then.” Thomas said to Newt, who made a noise that was a mix between a sob and a cough. “Okay. Cool. Um,” he decided to go for the bridal-carry, since that would allow him to hold the groceries in the hand propped under Newt’s knees. He staggered out of the bar, reminded that he really needed to start working out again. By no means was Newt a heavy guy—in fact, he was startlingly light—but by the time Thomas made it up the elevator to his shared condo his arms burned like the fires of hell.  
He barely managed to get the door open. Dropping off the groceries in the kitchen Thomas decided that he wasn’t mean enough to make Newt sleep on the couch, where he could wake up alone at a stranger’s apartment in the morning and freak out. So instead he carried Newt into the master bedroom, carefully setting the sleeping boy in the middle of the Queen bed, pulling off everything but his boxers and sliding in after him. Minho turned over in his sleep and put an arm over Newt’s waist, shifting until Newt’s head was in the crook of his shoulder, and Thomas grinned a little before pulling his arm over the other two and pressing them all closer.  
This was a horrible, horrible idea. But he’d be damned if he didn’t have the most fitful rest he’d gotten in months.

 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 

To his credit, Newt didn’t hit either of them when he woke up. But he also seemed to be that kind of person that didn’t actually switch his brain on until ten minutes after consciousness. Thomas was grateful for that—it gave him and Minho the time they needed to talk about what happened.  
Once Thomas had explained what went down the previous night Minho realized, even sympathized, with how Newt felt. They both agreed that they weren’t letting the blonde beauty leave the condo without making sure he knew how they felt. Because they knew, somehow, that he was what was missing. He would be the thing that would glue them together.  
Newt obviously had more tension with Minho, so Thomas got out of bed and started on some pancake batter to give them time to talk. When the blonde’s eyes finally began to clear Minho started talking.  
“You all there?”  
Newt groans and covers his eyes with his forearm. “Unfortunately.”  
Well. That wasn’t exactly the best way to start things. Oh well. “Look, Tom’s too wishy-washy to set this all straight so I’m gonna explain everything.” Minho sits up and crosses his legs. “I’m a runner and Tom’s a bio major. He graduated last year and had an internship at WCKD but they weren’t paying him, and I wasn’t exactly successful.” He took a deep breath. “We started pickpocketing because most of the people on that train are loaded and we figured we wouldn’t do too much harm. Checked the wallet for money and then if something important was in it we’d drop it off at the PD. I don’t—I don’t flirt with anyone usually, just kind of get in their space…but with you it felt different. No offense, but you’re really attractive.  
“Anyway, so yeah. Thomas pilfered your wallet and time passed. But then things started to look up. I actually make a pretty great wage right now and so does Tom, now that he’s not an intern anymore. And so we stopped doing that stuff. But…our relationship has kind of been a little weird.”  
Newt didn’t say anything, so Minho continued.  
“Yeah, so it’s been strange, I guess. Because he can’t get you out of his head and neither can I, and we actually were gonna try and find you and make a move but you sort of stole his wallet…and I kind of threw a lot of pent-up stress your way. Sorry about that. Could you—could you just look at me, at least?”  
Silence hung between them for a heartbeat before Newt glanced up. His eyes were slightly watery and he was biting his lip in a way that had Minho shifting on the bed uncomfortably. Something in Newt seemed to cave in because the next moment he was sagging back down into the covers and watching Minho uncertainly.  
“I still don’t know for certain,” he said slowly, cautiously, “but yeah. I feel the same way. About…both of you.”  
Most of the tension in Minho dissipated at those words, and he slid back down next to Newt in relief. “Thank god, I honestly don’t know if we would’ve been able to handle it if you didn’t. Oh! One more thing,” he smirked before propping up on one elbow and leaning over Newt. The blonde met his gaze steadily, almost a hint of a challenge in his eyes. He certainly had a steadfastness to his actions that was very attractive, and would make asking him to submit interesting.  
With a grin Minho leaned down and pressed his lips to Newt’s, pleasantly surprised when the blonde wrapped one hand in his hair and one around his neck, dragging their bodies closer together.  
“’ve been wanting to do that since I first saw you,” Minho panted when they broke for air. Newt breathed quietly before a small grin adorned his lips.  
“I know,” he said. “To be honest, I was a bit put out that you didn’t.”  
“Well, I’m not one to disappoint,” Minho replied swiftly, before swinging the rest of him over Newt until their bodies aligned and he ground their hips together. Newt gasped and curled into him before taking his teeth to Minho’s jugular and biting, his hands running up and down muscular arms. Minho noted it in the back of his mind for later use.  
“Hey so the pancakes are rea---lly? Without me? You guys suck.” Thomas leaned in the doorway and rolled his eyes at Minho, who ignored them even when Newt released the skin of his neck. When neither boy made to get up Thomas decided to join them, flopping onto the edge of the bed and giving Minho a push so that he landed on Newt’s other side. “So…I assume you…y’know….”  
“Not really,” Newt admitted with a sigh. “I want to, I do. To believe you guys. But this doesn’t happen to people, and I need some time to…think over things. But I’ve kind of liked you both for two months. It’s time I steer into the skid—mmph!” Thomas cut him off by taking his turn of pressing the blonde into the bed with a kiss. Minho wolf-whistled when they hit first base, which broke Thomas out of his reverie and had him leaning back to breathe.  
“Sorry, I just didn’t—I really wanted you to feel the same way.” He apologized. Newt, looking a bit overwhelmed, just nodded. “Anyway, pancakes are ready. Let’s eat.”  
Minho hung back and watched with a light grin as Thomas hooked an arm around Newt’s shoulders, explaining to him their master plan on finding him and getting him to date them. Judging by the look on Newt’s face, the blonde found it sweet but a little odd. Still, he leaned into Thomas’ arm ever-so-slightly and looked back over his shoulder at Minho when he didn’t follow.  
He knew nothing from this point forward was going to be easy. He and Thomas had a long road ahead of them of showing Newt that they really cared about him, and Newt would probably have to adjust a lot himself. But Minho knew it was worth it, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.


End file.
